


Absolution

by Tater_Tati



Series: #Kinktober2020 [13]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Distant relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/M, Healing, Kurapika having a lil breakdown, Makeup Sex, So perhaps that would make this OOC? Oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27083740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tater_Tati/pseuds/Tater_Tati
Summary: Kinktober Day 14: Makeup SexKurapika broke up with you, months back. In a moment of weakness, he seeks forgiveness.
Relationships: Kurapika (Hunter X Hunter)/Reader
Series: #Kinktober2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975348
Comments: 2
Kudos: 126





	Absolution

A phone call. That’s all you got from him when he broke up with you.

The two of you got in a huge fight over his quest for vengeance. You understood it was something of utmost importance to Kurapika, seeking justice for his clan’s annihilation and restoring some dignity to the Kurtas’ desecrated scarlet eyes, but he was _killing_ himself to do it. As the days passed, he became more and more distant, and sometimes you couldn’t even recognize the sweet, soft-spoken boy you’d fallen for. His obsession with revenge twisted his personality, made it into something gnarled and ghastly. It scared you.

When you expressed these concerns, he reacted with a kind of cold fury that shook you to the bone. “ _Why are you even with me if you knew this was my only goal?”_ he asked, frustrated. The next day, when you uneasily clocked into work after a morning of impassable silence from him, you received a brief, minute-long phone call. In hindsight, you suppose it was better than a shitty text.

“I’ll stop at nothing to obtain my clan’s eyes.” His voice rang with frigid certainty. “If you won’t support me, or stay out of my way, consider this relationship over.”

The call ended, and just like that, so did your relationship. A year of supporting him, desiring only what was best for him, and comforting him whenever he fell prey to hopelessness. All over.

You didn’t call him back. That night, you deleted him from your contacts. And you haven’t heard from him since.

That was six months ago.

And now, in the dead of the night, you wake up to the sound of your ringtone blaring. Rubbing your eyes blearily, you check the caller ID only to find it’s a number you don’t recognize. You mute it, before tossing your phone to the side, but your phone begins to buzz insistently, seconds later. This time you answer, prepared to tell off whoever the hell decided to call you this early when—

“(Y/N). It’s me.”

The voice sends your blood running cold. Your lips part and shut several times, but words evade you. It’s…. It’s him. It’s Kurapika.

You consider hanging up, so _badly_. The boy who doesn’t even have the gall to see you in person before breaking things off is calling you, wanting something from you, months after no contact. A flurry of emotion rushes through you—anger, confusion, _hurt_ —but the most pressing is that _longing_ tug in your chest that you thought you buried and made peace with long ago. 

” _Please_ ,” he says after your prolonged silence. “Don’t hang up. I’ll understand if you do, but—”

The desperation in his voice, you register vaguely, is nice to hear for something other than his goals for once. Almost like he cares… 

You sit up straighter in bed, rubbing your eyes.

“What do you want, Kurapika?” Your voice cracks with early morning disuse, and—although you try to ignore it—a twinge of that pain from being confronted with the boy that stomped all over your heart after all those times you spent being there for him. Yet still, that stubborn, foolish part of you that would let him do so over and over again reawakens with a flourish, unhindered by your attempts to stifle it.

“….I’m not sure,” he says quietly. “I’m not sure— _what_ —I want anymore.”

The raw quality to his voice and the plainness with which he expresses his hurt has the vestiges of sleep fading from you, as you shift gears to comfort mode. “Where are you?” The words slip out of you without preface. It reminds you too much of those times where you would find him, angry and mad at the world, and be there for him, without question. 

He gives you the new address he’s staying at, and before you know it, you’re flagging down a taxi to take you there, cursing at yourself for once again making room for him in your life, when he’s hardly done the same for you. In fact, he’s always made it clear that you come second to _his._

What does this say about you, that you’re constantly accommodating him and his needs? 

But when you’re knocking on the door, Kurapika answers, and the sight of him has any qualms fading to the back of your mind. His red eyes blaze brilliantly, unhidden by his usual contacts. And underneath them lay heavy dark circles, as if he hasn’t slept for weeks.

“Kurapika—”

He reaches your hand, whisks you into the apartment. The door hasn’t even slammed shut before he’s clutching you to him fiercely, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt. His form shakes against yours, the tumultuous desperation, anger, and frustration seeping off him. Despite yourself, you find yourself clutching him back, your chin nudging onto his shoulder as the two of you hold each other, there, until he eventually releases you.

The moment is there, then it dissipates into the air. Kurapika’s body slumps, and he sighs heavily, in a world-weary way. 

“You came,” he says simply.

“I still… I still care about you,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. Now that the moment’s worn off, you become all too aware of the lines he drew months ago.

He seems to swallow back something, before saying, in a rush. “I—I’m sorry.”

“I know that doesn’t make up for everything, but—I am _truly sorry._ ” He looks away.

All the things you wanted to accuse him of also disperse in the face of his apology. Your frowns wavers. “I…I’d like to say I don’t accept your apology, but…” You take a shaky breath. “I’d forgive you even if you weren’t sorry,” you admit.

He looks up, and burning, scarlet red, his stare is more vulnerable than you can ever remember them being. “You’re too kind to me.” He laughs humorlessly.

You look him dead in the eye. “You’re destroying yourself, Kurapika. And I can’t just stand around and watch—” 

He inhales deeply, his eyes slipping shut. He holds the breath, as if he’s holding in everything he wants to tell you, then beckons you to follow him to the another room. You do, and your eyes widen once you see the jars, dozens of them, with floating scarlet eyes in them. He did it. He’s done it.

“You—”

“I’ve collected them. I’ve killed some of the Phantom Troupe. I’ve accomplished my goal,” he says, steely gaze focused on the eyes. “All I want to know is…. _Why am I not happy?_ ” His voice cracks the slightest, and he swallows it down, steadies himself. “Where is the satisfaction in all I’ve done? For so long, I’ve dedicated my life to this cause, to liberate my clan, even in death, yet now…”

“I feel even more lost,” he muses, his gaze slipping past the red orbs. You approach him hesitantly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t recoil, which you take as a good sign.

“You’ve been struggling, Kurapika,” you say, gently. “It’s been obvious to everyone.” 

Slowly, he raises his hand on yours, squeezing gently. You hesitate.

“Let’s… Let’s move to a different room. I don’t think it’s a good idea to linger here…” You hope you don’t offend him, but being in this room, surrounded by the reminder of his clan’s annihilation, seems to only darken his mood. He nods. He follows you and you manage to direct him to his bedroom. You urge him to sit, observing him.

“Your hair is tangled,” you murmur, fingers shifting through his hair. You look around for a brush. His bedroom is sparsely decorated room, bereft of anything that would keep him attached there, but it makes easier to find the bare necessities. You find it in his dresser, and use it to brush out the tangles. It’s something your mother used to do for you, and something you would occasionally do for Kurapika after a long day. He tenses as your hands soothe through his hair, the notion painfully familiar. He eventually uncoils, relaxing into your touch, and there’s a few seconds of you brushing your fingers through his soft locks, before he speaks. 

“You’ve always… been there for me. Even now. When I’ve treated you awfully.”

His hand comes up to grasp your wrist, halting its movements. Your eyes meet, and something in the air _snaps._ He leans up to place his lips against yours. It’s the first kiss the two of you have shared in awhile; his lips taste like sorrow and things unexpressed. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and then you’re pressing back just as insistently. You lean forward, pressing your weight against him. You end up pinning him to the bed, and he breaks things off before things escalate. 

He blinks as if in stupor. “I—we shouldn’t—” he says uncertainly.

“But I _want_ to,” you say firmly. And then your mouth is on his again, and he’s powerless to resist, his arms holding you to him.

Kurapika is so desperate to feel something again. Everything he’s been chasing after that he thought would give him peace has just led to this horrible _numbness._ Killing the Spiders, collecting the eyes. He thought feeding into his rage would give him purpose, but now… 

Now that his rage has ebbed slightly, he feels that sinking emptiness crawling over him again. And in his moment of loneliness, he found himself wistful for all those little things that you would do for him.

He wants so desperately to feel again, but he doesn’t want to impose on you. He’s already done so, been an awfully absent partner, for far too many times. He presses harder against yours, his lips sliding across yours like water, and you respond enthusiastically. 

He may have ruined your relationship beyond compare, but… you still _want_ him. You’re still kissing him back, as if you’ve missed this too.

And like a drowning man, he’s glad to inhale any air he can, right before he goes back under. 

His knee nudges between your legs, and then he’s undoing the ties to your pants. Your hands make quick work of his own, and the two of your lower halves are brushing against each other, the heat transferring from your skin addictive. It’s been far too long since Kurapika’s allowed himself to feel anything, that part of him is convinced he doesn’t deserve this. But still, as his fingers part you, the moan you release into his mouth is nothing short of a lifeline. Kurapika’s brow furrows. His touch unearths you with a relentless intensity, until you’re trembling against him, and you break the kiss to cry out his name. 

He lets out a shaky breath. “Can I…” He looks into your eyes, and you nod. Then he’s burrowing himself inside you, groaning as the feel of you envelops him, snug and warm. He holds the position for a moment, feeling every twitch and clench of you around him, breathing shakily through his nose. You rock against him, and then he’s shifting his hips, rolling into you like waves. 

He’s not usually this vocal, but maybe it’s the feeling of being on edge for far too long. He’s muffling sighs and curses into your neck, pants of your name, his hands stroking reverently along your sides as your hips rock togethes. Everything feels far too intense, a consequence of laying himself bare.

The world is cold and cruel, and Kurapika molded himself to be like it, but you make him want to cling to that warmth and kindness. He’s surprised when he feels tears collecting in his eyes, his vision going glassy.

When he realizes you’re stroking through his hair again, much like you did earlier, he lets out a kind of choked laugh. His fingers dig into your hips, draws you even closer to him, and part of him is conscious he might leave a mark— _good,_ another part of him asserts. He wants you to remember him in some way, even if it is selfish of him.

“Ah… (Y/N), I’m going to….”

“Me too. Let’s finish together?” And you’re staring at him with such a tender smile, and even if he’s hurt you before, and might continue to hurt you, it’s still very clear that you really do _love him_ —how can he do anything but comply. Kurapika bites back a moan as he spills inside you, and you’re also quivering against him with a sigh of his name.

As the two of you are coming down from your highs, Kurapika clenches his eyes shut as reality creeps up on him again. Being intimate is good and fine, but now, after you’ve comforted him for a bit, surely you’d be leaving… He’s not foolish enough to believe one night could change things. And your imminent leave has something traitorous building in his throat, his eyes once again burning with liquid intensity.

God, he’s pathetic. Why is he like this? He’s so used to being the cool and calm one. What’s changed?

You get up to leave, but to his surprise, his hand reaches out for you. 

“Ah…” He doesn’t even think he can explain his actions.

“Don’t you want to clean up?” you ask, and he responds by dragging you back into his arms, settling you back with in bed with him. The answer is clear. He presses his lips against your forehead.

Who knew what the next day would bring—conversations about your relationship could continue later, but for now, instead of living in the past, perhaps Kurapika could for once, enjoy the present with you, however transient it may be.


End file.
